A Fool in a Bar
by StarArrow
Summary: Warren is skipping out on Layla and Will's wedding in which he was supposed to be the best man. Why?


**This is just a little oneshot that I wrote to help with writers block. It's not a full plan or anything, so I hope it works out. Enjoy!**

* * *

Warren threw back another shot and set the glass beside the others on the bar. The sting of alcohol was not enough to numb the pain he was feeling. She was standing at the alter right about now.

"Wan' another 'un?" the aging man behind the bar asked. Warren waved him away and stared ahead, unseeing.

He was supossed to be the best man, too. That was the ironic thing. But in the end, he could not bring himself to show up.

So, here he was, sitting in a bar, in a tux, and attempting to drink away the pain.

The other bartender, a young woman, placed a cold beer in front of him.

"That is not near strong enough." Warren slurred, trying to focus on her face. She was pretty. Reminded him of Magenta with her dark looks. Magenta. She was probably holding the bouquet right now, smiling in her bridesmaid dress.

"Okay," She took away the beer and replaced it with a fat bottle of Jack Daniels. Warren took it and let some of the liquid burn its way down his thoat before slamming it back on the counter. "So, what's the occation?"

"Wedding." Warren grunted.

"Groom?" She asked, leaning forward on her elbows.

"Best man." Warren looked around the dark, smoky room. He was one of three customers. No one came in at this hour but the regulars.

And best men who couldn't manage to force themselves to go to their best friend's wedding.

"Isn't it the custom to get drunk after the wedding?" She asked, smirking.

"I suppose." He shrugged, twirling the bottle before gulping down another swig.

"So..." She said, leaving the question hanging.

"Don't you have someone else to booze up?" Warren slurred, irritated by her prodding.

"Guy over there's passed out and James has the other one. I'm all your's." She grinned, pulling a glass out from behind the counter. Taking the bottle from Warren, she tipped the contents into her glass, then returned it. "So...why aren't you giving the lovely couple your well wishes?"

"That...is none of your business." He told her curtly, downing more of the numbing liquid.

"Alright, how 'bout this: You tell me, because now I'm curious, and I tab this bottle." She said, smiling coyly and striking him with her large, cinnamon eyes.

Warren raised the bottle to his lips again and considered it. With a grim smile at the thought of her reaction to his answer, he leaned forward and told her in a rough, quiet voice, "I am in love with my best friend's fiance...well, probably his wife by now."

The girl raised her eyebrow, "No shit? That sucks."

Warren snorted and swallowed again, "Tell me about it."

Swirling the amber liquid in her glass, the girl shook her head, "You couldn't just tell her?"

"And ruin her wedding, lose my best friend, be rejected, and have to watch them live happily ever after anyway? No way." He said, rubbing his face with his hands. "I'm not a fool."

"Wanna bet?" The girl smirked. "Only a fool lets love get away."

"That's just a bunch of fairytale shit." Warren bit back. Who was she to call him a fool? "She was never mine to catch anyway. It's not exactly like I let her get away. She was always free."

Warren realized what he had just said was a jumble of drunken nonsense, but it seemed to make sense to him. She was always so free and light, like a lily growing in a garden of tulips. No one could measure up to her. She was a mysterious wonder that enchanted him. She was, most of all, not his.

"You could have at least tried." The girl remarked, picking at one black-coated nail.

"Why are you here?" He growled.

"I work here." She snipped. "Why are you here?"

For some reason, the question seemed to weigh heavy in Warren's mind.

Why was he here?

Why was he here and not incinerating the church doors to reveal his feelings to his one, true love?

_Because you are a coward_, a voice in his head told him.

_Will would kill you_, another argued.

_You love her and want her to be happy._

Yeah, with himself, not Will.

Why was he here?

"Because I am a fool." He grumbled, settling his head in his hands. "Because I am a damn stupid fool."

"At least you can admit it. I have known many fools to sit at this bar and think they are merely victims of bad luck." She said, taking the bottle from him again and adding more to her glass. "So, fool, what are you going to do now?"

"Get drunker." To Warren it sounded like the most obvious thing to do.

"How 'bout get sober?" She suggested, pushing the bottle away.

"Isn't it your job to get me drunk?" Warren asked.

"No, it's my job to sell things that get you drunk." She told him, a smirk on her face.

"Hilarious." He grumbled, downing another glass and adding more. The bell above the bar door jingled, causing the girl to look up, but not Warren.

"Well, Mr. Fool, you might want to take a looksie at the broad that just came it. You two look like you belong together." The girl said, giggling slightly at Warren's confused expression. "Your tux...she's decked out in a wed-"

She had no time to finish because Warren spun around and shouted, "Layla!"

"Hello." The red-head said, holding up her silky white train in one hand and a bouquet in the other.

"Is that her?" The bartender asked, leaning over the bar on her elbows so that she was right behind Warren's ear. Warren dumbly nodded, to astounded by the sight in front of him to speak. "Then I would get my ass off this bar and go to her."

Obeying, he rose robotically and stumbled toward her, slightly inhibited by the amount of alcohol he had consumed.

"What are you doing here?" He slurred, looking at her with confused eyes.

"I couldn't get married without you there." She said, tears in her eyes and grinning.

"Oh." Warren could feel the high he felt from seeing her standing there in the door way come crashing down. She was just there to drag him back to watch as she married his best friend.

"So, will you be there the next time I walk down the aisle." She asked hopefully, a smile on her beautiful lips.

Warren turned away slowly, disheartened and said as steadily as he could, "No."

"But-" Layla frowned, following him as he went, not understanding.

"Look," Warren started, spinning back around and seeing a kliediscope of colors swirl with him. Shaking his head to clear it, he started again, "Look, I can't. Okay? I can't watch you walk down that aisle while I stand behind Stronghold. Alright? I can't."

Layla only smiled broader.

Confused in his drunken state, he assumed that she was laughing at him, at his feelings, and turned away from her again.

"Warren, wait." He felt a small hand on his shoulder, but did not turn. He felt her warm breath as she brought her lips to his ear and whispered, "I was hoping you would be standing in front of him."

The confession took a moment to sink into his foggy mind. When it finally did, he could only turn slowly, not believing what his brain told him he had heard.

"What?" He croaked, his throat suddenly dry.

"I said, 'I was hoping that you would be standing beh'-umph." She started, but never finished. A pair of searing lips were covering hers.

Pulling away, Warren rested his forehead on her's grinning like an idiot. Behind him, he heard applause. Looking over his shoulder, he saw the old bartender and the girl applauding, his slow, ham-like pounds somehow in sync with her quick, spastic claps. Warren felt a hand on his cheek, pulling him back.

"I think you already knew what I said." Layla told him matter-of-factly.

"I'm slightly drunk, Hippie. I had to make sure I was hearing right." He told her, smirking, before swooping in for another kiss. Distantly, he could hear a bell ring. Warren didn't care. He was kissing Layla. His love. His. She wanted to be his.

"I told you she was going for him." A female voice said, alerting him to a presense of others in the small bar.

Gasping and jerking away, Warren snapped his gaze toward the door, seeing it crowded with people. Magenta, wrapped in Zach's arms, was smiling at them. Ethan was gawking. Suddenly, breaking through the three in front of him, Will burst into the bar.

"You...you...you were-" He sputtered, his confused, hurt eyes on the couple still embracing each other in the middle of the room.

"Will, listen." Layla said, moving toward him and away from Warren.

"Layla," Will whined, "He is my best friend. How could you?"

"It wasn't exactly just her, Will." Warren admitted.

"What?" Will looked astounded.

"I kissed her back." He told him.

"You...you kissed her back?" Will looked hurt. Beyond hurt. He looked betrayed.

Warren, too, stepped forward to explain, "I've loved her since we were in school, Will. But she was your's. I couldn't do that to either of you. I-"

"She's still mine!" Will yelled, shoving Warren in the chest, sending him back ten feet.

"'Ay. None o' tha' 'ere." A strong, beefy hand came down on Will's arm. "Take it outta 'ere if 'ur in a fightin' mood."

Will brushed the bartender off and glared at the couple in front of him.

"Will, I can't marry you." Layla told him, tears rising in her eyes.

"No, you won't marry me." He assured her, looking from his fiance to his best friend.

"Will, I don't want to get ten years down the road and realize that I hate my life because I passed up true love." Layla told him. "I don't want you to live like that either."

"But I do love you, Lay." Will told her fiercely.

"And I love you, too." Layla told him, her words breaking Warren's heart. She regretted it, he realized, she regretted what she had said to him. Then she continued, "I just don't love you the way a wife should love her husband."

Will fell back as if he had been punched in the chest. "I see." He said curtly before walking out of the building.

"I'm sorry, Hippie." Warren said, tentatively touching her arm. He could feel the buzz from her kisses and the liquer wearing off. Alcohol never lasted long in his system anyway, with this power.

Layla turned into him, hugging him tightly. "It's not your fault. It is mine. Don't worry."

"He's my best friend. I can't just forget him." Warren whispered into her hair. "We can fix it. But right now, I'm taking you home. Or maybe a church, seeing as we are already dressed."

Layla looked taken back, "Already? I mean-"

Warren's deep laugh stopped her. "I'm kidding. I'm going to do this properly. Dates, kisses, meet the parents, all that stuff."

Layla giggled and linked her arm with his, "Sounds like a plan."

"Isn't that the sweetest thing you ever saw, James?" The girl asked the old bartender as the group walked out of the bar.

"Nah. Meet me wife th' same way." He chuckled hoarsely, taking a dusty old rag and whiping down the bar.


End file.
